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The moonlight softly lightened the bedroom, allowing enough for bare outlines to be seen, once your eyes adjusted--and my eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark.

The body laying next to me could have been anyone, except it was him. My him. Sometimes, in the memories that aren't mine, I remember laying next to a body much like his, with ivory instead of raven hair, but the same in all physical aspects. But not mind, and not soul, oh no, never those.

Sometimes I wonder how bad my lover has it. We deal with double the memories that everyone else has, and, yes, my other memories have me living as a man than as the woman I was, but that just makes it easier for me to disengage myself from the memories. But my lover is male, as was his and mine clone-fathers; yes, my clone-father is different from him, but what about his clone-father? Where does body of one end, and the next begin?

More importantly, were does their love end, and ours begin? Do we merely echo their love in ours, or would ours have formed between our two souls, making them one, had we not be born in these two bodies. I would like to think so, but I really do not know.

When I first saw his eyes, I thought I was looking back upon a thousand lifetimes, and looking into the future of mine; could I merely have recognized what I had loved before.